


put down in writing

by marquisdegayaf



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: its sad and happy like most stuff i write, our mans be dying n he writes writes writes to get his feelings out, these are in no particular order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquisdegayaf/pseuds/marquisdegayaf
Summary: whizzer's letters to his family, written in his last two weeks. inspired by a headcanon sent into http://falsettosheadcanons.tumblr.com/





	1. titled: for jason's 21st

NOT TO BE OPENED UNTIL NOVEMBER 27TH 1989  
Jason,

Happy 21st! Hopefully when you read this you are far too drunk to retain any of this letter, but don’t worry cause you can re-read it tomorrow when you’re nursing your first hangover. Or maybe it’s not your first. I for sure drank ages before I was 21, but you’re a much better kid than I ever was. Regardless of whether it’s your first hangover or not, here’s something to help: a cure! Coming from someone who spent a lot of his life drinking espresso martinis (which you must never drink because when you were 10 I let you have a sip of my coffee and you didn’t sleep for 36 hours….) and spending weeks in a hangover, the only cure that works is eating Shakshuka, (an Israeli breakfast food… the best...your mom or Mendel or your dad will know how to make it as they’re more ashkenazi than a bagel shop in moscow) having a bath, drinking peppermint tea, having a bath (with those cool bath bombs that Delia has… i like the pink ones) and then sleeping for as long as possible. And water. Drink lots of water all the time. Hopefully that’ll help.

I wish I could be there to tell you all that to your face, but unfortunately I’m a dumb ben zona and we don’t know if I’ll even get to see your bar mitzvah. And I’m sorry for that, Jason. And I’m sorry that I’ve never told you how having you around has changed me as a person and made me more responsible and more emotionally mature and better to your face. And I’m sorry that you’re gonna watch me die. But I can’t articulate that to you right now and it’s killing me, because unsaid feelings kill, Jase, they really do. Please promise me that you’ll never try to push down your feelings and bite your tongue and hold in how you feel. If you love someone please tell them or it’ll eat you up inside. I should know. I can’t do emotions and it shits. But I digress.

So, you’re 21. I’m getting all fucking emotional, half because it’s downright impossible for me to imagine you as anything other than a weird scrappy pre-teen with braces and thick glasses and it hurts and half because I will never get to see the man you’ll become. The man you are. You’re a grownass man and whatever has happened, whatever you’ve been through, however fucked up you think you are or however much you feel that everyone hates you, (because that’s what everyone feels, to some extent) please know that I will always be proud to have known you and proud of you. Proud in every way. Thank you.

Yom hu'ledet sameach,  
Lots of love,  
Your (sort of) Dad (Whizzer Brown)

PS: Give your proper dad a hug from me today. Don’t tell him it’s from me. Let him forget as best he can.


	2. for trina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my guy saying bye one more

Trina, 

How are you? I suppose that depends when you’re reading this. You could be reading this in five years times, you could be reading this next week, you could be reading this tomorrow. I don’t know. I’ve written your son a few letters, I’m gonna write Marvin a few, and I figure I should write you one too, because you’re important. To me. That sounds so straight but give me a moment.

I ruined your life, Trina. I slept with your husband, ruined your marriage, nearly ruined your family. If I were you I would have decked me the day you met me. I wouldn't have let me walk through my door. But you didn’t do any of that. The first time I came over you welcomed me into your house, smiled at me, put your hand on my arm when I looked nervous- I’ll never forget that- Gave me advice on how to deal with Marvin’s shitty episodes, made me feel almost at home. Sure, you were a little snippy and a little cold, but as time passed you got warmer. And now, today, you bought me a flask of whiskey and a happy days box set and got me to laugh for the first time in five days. And you laughed with me. You’ve forgiven me and I am flawed by it. Due to this I have come to the conclusion that you are actually a saint and I wish I had your grace and empathy and resilience.

I’m gonna miss you, T. I’m gonna miss your smile and the way you flap your hands when you’re stressed and your gross marc jacobs perfume (give a dying man his last wish and BUY SOME CHANEL) and your smile and hugs and openness. I’m gonna miss our movie nights. I’m sorry for the wrong I’ve done you. I’m sorry for leaving now, at the most inconvenient time possible. And I hope you can forgive me. I have the utmost faith that you’ll pull Jason’s bar mitzvah off. Please don’t let him cancel it because of my sorry ass. Also: I’m leaving you all my hair care products. You’re welcome.

Kol tuv, Trina. Thank you.

Whizzer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how happy i am with this,,, should i keep writing these??? idk if they're alright


	3. for mavin (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i made myself sad

Marvin,

I have so much to say and I can’t say it. I can’t. There is a mountain goat on the frog in my throat and it’s hard to speak. It’s hard to breathe. This morning I ran my hand through my hair and this huge bit of it fell out and I would’ve screamed if I was strong enough. I forget things. I forgot Delia’s mom’s name yesterday when she came to visit and I felt so awful. I feel awful all the time. I look ugly and feel awful and I want to tell someone but I can’t. I’ve never been able to. And I’m so sorry because I know you know I’m holding stuff in and I know it hurts you and I don’t want to hurt you, Marvin, but I guess I don’t have a choice, huh? These days I don’t have a choice. 

I don’t think I’ll put this one in the box with the other letters. I don’t think you’ll ever read it. I don’t want you to read it. Maybe I’ll keep it on me. Maybe I’ll have it when they bury me. That’s morbid. This letter is morbid. That’s why you can’t ever see it. I suppose this letter is for me. It’s everything I’m not man enough to say out loud. 

Back on topic. Marvin. Last night I was vomiting blood for an hour and you held onto me the whole time and I don’t know why the hell you did. I don’t know how you keep it together. I’m sorry that I can’t keep it together any more. I’m sorry. I can’t write anymore because I keep coughing and crying and I’m scared and alone and you’ll be back soon. You’ll be back and you’ll tell me everything will be fine and I’ll pretend that I believe you because I love you. I love you so much and I’m going to miss you so much and now I really have to go because I hear you coming down the hall and you can’t see me cry. So goodbye.

I love you and I’ll see you as much as I can before I go.

W x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry. comments give me a reason to live


End file.
